


Subtext

by amusawale



Series: First Time [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Post-Season/Series 12, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusawale/pseuds/amusawale
Summary: written for the prompt: Unwrittenthey've defeated the men of letters. Sam Winchester has come to the realization that...he's in love with his brother. Oh shiid. Now what?





	1. Chapter 1

Sam stared fixedly at nothing while his coffee grew cold at his elbow. He had technically been in shock ever since…

But it was easy to hide it what with one thing and another; Castiel was gone, Mom was in another universe…they had a devil child on their hands…

If he needed excuses for looking shell shocked, there were many. But he was just numb to all of it because really who could process such mundane things as grief and loss when…

When…

God it wasn’t even an elephant in the room. More like a gigantic oviraptorosaur.

How could not have seen it before? How could he not have realized?

But _how the fuck_ would he have even been expected to _think_ these thoughts?

“Hey,” a deep rumbling voice said from the direction of the doorway.

“Hey,” Sam replied looking somewhere to the left of Dean because he just _wasn’t ready_ to meet his eyes. He heard rather than saw Dean pulling back the chair next to him and plopping down upon it. He leaned in, his unique scent washing over Sam in unfamiliar waves of familiarity. He didn’t remember ever noting Dean’s scent before…

Yet he knew it like he knew his own name; a curious blend of whiskey, apple pie and clean sweat. Without thinking he breathed it in, feeling his whole body relax as the essence of his brother surrounded him.

“What’s up? Is it the brat? Why do you have that face?”

Sam laughed, “What face?” he asked without looking at Dean.

“That face like your mother just di-” he stopped talking very abruptly turning away slightly from Sam. Sam wanted to reach out, maybe cover Dean’s hand with his own, let him know that he got it. But it was too weird now. Everything was too heightened; everything took on additional significance. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.

“Sam, talk to me. No more secrets, remember?” Dean said his voice too quiet. Sam turned to face him, letting the bleakness he was feeling show in his eyes. Suddenly Dean stood up and went to the side board, grabbing two glasses and the almost full bottle of Glenlivet.

Sam smiled unhappily, “Don’t you think it’s a little early for alcohol?”

Dean shrugged, “It’s five o’ clock somewhere. Besides you look like you need it. What’s going on with you?” he asked as he slid an almost full glass toward Sam.

“What’s _not_ going on?” Sam tried to deflect.

Warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing, sending tendrils every which way as if his hand emitted the blue phosphorence of St. Elmo’s fire. Sam wanted to jerk away so he kept preternaturally still instead.

“Sam.” Dean said and that was enough.

Sam took a deep breath; it was true - they didn’t keep secrets anymore but how to tell this one?

“You know when you blasted a hole in the wall using the rocket launcher…” he shook his head and laughed, lost in the memory, “You were just… _magnificent_. Like every super hero who ever existed.”

“Mmm,” Dean said, not disagreeing but clearly lost.

“That was when I knew for sure.” Sam said.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Knew what Sam?”

“You know when me and Jessica…started…” Sam stopped and Dean’s eyebrows went up almost to his hairline. Almost thirteen years later and Sam rarely mentioned her name.

“Me and her, we…well. She er…she kinda chased me? I mean I liked her but…”

“You’re kinda weird around chicks,” Dean finished for him.

“Right. So anyways…”

“Sam…?”

“Just let me finish okay?”

Dean leaned back in his seat, eyes on his brother as if to say, continue.

“With…Amelia, it was kind of like,” Sam shrugged, “I hit a dog she was a vet, she was lonely, I was lonely, we…clung...”

Dean sighed loudly but said nothing.

“What I’m saying is…”

There was another loaded silence.

“What you’re saying is…?” Dean said at last and Sam shot him a look™.

“We, you and I, we kind of…uh, we’re not. We don’t really fit anywhere except together. Even when we…we always, I mean…”

“Yeah,” Dean said with perfect understanding.

“And we just like, take it for granted? Like it’s just who we are…”

“Uh huh?”

“I think it was the lack of oxygen. You and me we were sitting there on the ground, running out of breath. Kind of giving up. But it was okay. I was okay with it and so were you; because we’d be going out together.”

“Mmm.”

“And then seeing you there, holding the rocket launcher to your shoulder, it just hit me.”

Sam sipped his whiskey, staring at the bookshelf like it held the secret to life.

“ _What_ hit you?” Dean said at last.

“I mean I don’t know why I never thought of it, before. But there was always like, something happening, y’know. But that was…the end. It was over. We were on our last hurrah. I think that’s why I let my guard down enough to…”

“Enough to what?”

“To realize.”

Dean was looking at him, fear and uncertainty in his eyes. Sam wondered if he should stop now. But Dean was waiting, eyebrow raised for him to start making sense and he wanted to, it’s just the words would not come in the order he wanted them to.

“What did you realize Sam?”

“It’s the unwritten subtext of our lives you know? It’s the codependency we attribute to how we grew up, the lack of seeking outside relationships…the possessiveness,” Sam’s voice trailed off.

“Sam…?” Dean’s voice said Sam better start ‘splaining himself plainly before Dean decked him.

Sam looked up, met Dean’s eyes.

“I can’t unsee it now.” He said hopelessly.

Dean leaned in, hand on his shoulder like a vise.

“What Sam? What can’t you unsee?”

Sam sighed, “That I…” he looked down at his hands, nervously fiddling with a stray strand of plaid, “I…am...in,” he sighed glanced up at Dean and then down again, “I lo-”

Dean straightened up abruptly. Sam couldn’t look at him.

“You know if you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t feel it.”

His brother sounded amused. Sam wanted to look up in his eyes, see if he understood or he’d misinterpreted his garbled nonsense, but he was too much of a coward to.

“For me it was that speech you made. You know, to the hunters?” Dean said conversationally, “I was like, damn; my baby’s all grown up. My _baby_ …suddenly it took on a whole new meaning.”

Sam’s head came up, eyes wide with shock, “Yeah?” he said.

Dean gave his ‘what can you do?’ shrug.

They drank their whiskey in silence.

“So, what now?” Dean asked once their glasses were empty.

“You think that memory foam of yours has room for a few more?” Sam asked.

“A few more what?”

Sam shrugged, “Memories, what else?”

Dean laughed, “I guess we’ll just have to see. Meanwhile, it’s your turn to check on the brat.”

 

 


	2. Swan Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has second thoughts.

Sam sat at the kitchen table, coffee going cold at his elbow.

He was _shaking_.

He'd gone back and forth with this, back and forth again...he was back on ' _t_ _his is a very very very bad idea_.'

Dean was off somewhere - getting beer he said. Jack had gone to bed or was watching Netflix in his room. Probably the latter. The boy seemed _obsessed_ with Gilmore Girls.

And Sam was sitting at the kitchen table having an existential crisis.

"What were you even _thinking_?" he murmured to himself. When he'd told Dean he was in love with him this morning...well mumbled something to that effect anyway, he must have been running on empty, no sleep, barely any food, worry, angst, grief...it was just a side effect. It had to be.

"What were you even thinking...about?" Dean's deep rumble behind him almost had him jumping out of his seat.

"Dean! What did we say about sneaking up on people?"

Dean smirked putting the paper bag he was carrying on the table and extracting from it a six pack of beer and two packs of chips - large size, "Nothing as far as I know." he said, "Now what's got your knickers in a twist this fine evening huh?" Dean said twisting the cap off a beer and handing it to Sam. He took one for himself and perched on the edge of the table, right next to Sam.

Sam wanted to lean back, to create some space where he maybe wasn't feeling Dean's warmth, wasn't scenting him, wasn't noticing the tiny blonde hairs on freckled skin just where his flannel was folded back at the elbow, how well toned his arms were.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind," he said without thinking.

Dean smiled, looking at him with faux concern, "Aww Sammy, you lost your mind a long time ago," he said hand on Sam's shoulder. He squeezed gently and Sam knew he should say something like 'bite me' or 'eat me' in response but...hand. shoulder. Instead, he whimpered.

Dean's face became concerned for real.

"Hey there lil' bro. You doin' okay?"

"Are _you_?" Sam asked instead, narrowing his eyes at Dean. There was no way he was this cool with everything.

Dean shrugged, "Look, with everything else that's going on, adding more pressure on yourself isn't going to help anyone," he said and Sam could feel himself shrink with disappointment. Dean _had_ changed his mind.

"There's no urgency to this. We've lived with it for what...? Years? now so it's not going anywhere. Let's just...get comfortable. No pressure okay?"

Sam looked up at Dean wondering how he always just _knew_ the right thing to do.

But...

He didn't exactly not want to be with Dean either. He could feel his mouth watering at the thought of getting his tongue on Dean's skin. Any part of it.

"Hey, we can start by sleeping in the same bed. Memory foam right?" Dean said with a grin.

"Yeah," Sam said whole body going lax with relief. Dean stood up.

"Come on." he said holding out his hand, Sam took it with no hesitation as he stood up as well, "There's this song I heard on the radio that I wanna play for you."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked not really giving a fig, in fact, he wasn't sure if he was walking or floating in midair, "Some new hair rock you haven't heard before?"

"Nah. It's called Fuckin' Problems. Pretty good."

"Excellent," Sam said and followed Dean into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story insists that it's a very slow build for Sam and Dean to get comfortable enough for sexy times. Looks like this is going to be a multichapter fic. Written for the prompt 'song'. I'm gonna see if I can work with the weekly prompts to update.


	3. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed a prompt...I think. It's been crazy. Let's see what emerges.

Sam lay stiffly against Dean, clad in just his boxers. Dean seemed curiously relaxed behind him, hand resting casually on Sam's waist, breathing in deeply, evenly. Maybe he was even asleep.

Sam could not sleep.

His body was poised for fight or flight, his mind churning in turmoil. His skin was hot and he wanted to throw off the insubstantial covering. At the same time he felt the continuous tremor that ran from the nape of his neck to his toes, unable to stop it; blushing with embarrassment lest Dean could feel it.

Dean gave a deep shuddering breath and his body jerked and then relaxed. His hand didn't move. Sam wanted to turn around and look at him. He didn't know if he could. He moved back a bit, so his back was right against Dean's front. He could feel the expansion and relaxation of Dean's chest as he breathed. It was curiously soothing. 

Like a lullaby.

Sam slept.

* * *

 

Dean waited for that little snore that told him his little brother was down for the count before he shuffled away from Sam and closer to the edge of the bed. His heart was pounding with fear and guilt and - he blushed to admit it, even to himself - arousal. His mind was jumping from one thing to the next trying to make his thoughts come together and live in harmony.

Dad.

Everything began and ended with him. If he could see them now, his arm draped casually over Sam's waist. Them two in their boxers, sharing body heat, sharing desire...Dean didn't know what his dad would have done in that situation. He was glad he would never have to find out.

Mom.

Where _was_ she? He cursed Castiel again for killing Billie - who he could have asked about his mother - but then remembered that Cas was dead too.

Cas was dead.

Mom was _very likely_ dead.

Sam was in love with him.

He was in love with Sam.

Talk about cosmic consequences...

He thought wistfully back to the days when all he worried about was keeping his family together. Longed for those simpler problems. Keep Dad happy, keep Sam happy, stop them from killing each other.

Dean sighed.

Now he was fostering the devil's child while the devil played cat and mouse with his mother. His brother wanted to be his lover...

' _You always did want a family Dean, careful what you wish for_.' a voice that sounded curiously like Sam's said in his head.

He turned to look at his brother's broad back, visible even in the dim lighting. He wanted to reach out and run his finger down his brother's back; follow the line of his spine right down to his boxers, maybe see if he could make those shivers come back. His hand jerked as if to follow the impulse and Dean fisted his hand to keep it away from Sam's skin. 

Not now.

They weren't ready.

His dick jerked.

"Well _I'm_ ready," it seemed to be saying.

"Shut up," Dean whispered.

Sam jerked awake, turning around to face Dean. He always had been the lightest of sleepers. Ever since adolescence.

"Dean?" he whispered hoarsely in the dark.

"What?" Dean asked, tucking his hand under his head so it wasn't tempted to try anything.

"What's wrong?"

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it. What wasn't wrong? Sam reached out, his hand landing with a slap on Dean's chest. His skin was warm, almost fevered.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No." Sam whispered. 

Dean could see the whites of his eyes glowing slightly in the dark as he looked at Dean.

"Anything I can do?"

They stared at each other, the air seeming thick and heavy between them, full of unsaid things and unexpressed emotions.

"No," Sam said at last.

Dean covered Sam's hand on his chest, "Go to sleep Sam." he said.

 


	4. Awkwardness Ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has coping mechanisms. Jack wants to use the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the writing prompt: Goodnight

Sam was tapping his foot as he listened to Take Five on his headphones. It was soothing and if there was one thing he was grateful to Arthur Ketch for, it was reminding him that the song existed. He closed his eyes, bobbing his head in time to the saxophone. He could feel his heartbeat slow down to something like normal for the first time in a couple of days. The constantly churning anxiety in his belly eased as he lost himself in the music.

"Sam?"

The voice came out of nowhere, interrupting his bliss. He thought about ignoring it for a moment but then sighed. Jack was not one to understand non-verbal cues. Not yet anyway.

"Yeah?" he said without opening his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm listening to music," Sam said concisely still not opening his eyes as the drums kicked in. This was the best part.

He could feel Jack standing somewhere to his left, probably in the doorway to the kitchen. He could _feel_ his hesitance warring with his need to ask whatever it was he wanted to ask. Take Five was replaced by Sade in his ear and he opened his eyes.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I was wondering...if you're not using your room again tonight..." Jack hesitated as Sam blanched. He hadn't realized that Jack was aware of their new sleeping arrangements.

"I mean..." Jack hesitated looking scared.

"What do you want Jack?" Sam tried to make his voice gentle even though he was still a little shocked at Jack knowing...whatever. There was really nothing to know. They were just sleeping together after all. No biggie. Sharing body heat.

"I wanted to...use the television in your room to watch Netflix. It's much bigger than the computer screen and I wanted to watch some Luke Cage," he whispered hesitantly.

Sam almost smiled.

"Yeah sure. Feel free to use my room for your Netflix needs," Sam said the thought fleeting through his mind that maybe they should move the big screen to the library or something. His room seemed to always be movie central...

"Thank you, Sam," Jack said with his tiny hesitant smile. Sam returned it with no reserve. He really did like the kid.

"You're welcome," Sam said leaning back in his chair. Dean wasn't even around; he was off helping Missouri so really Sam ought to sleep in his own bed tonight...he didn't want to though.

"Goodnight Sam," Jack said startling him. He hadn't noticed that Jack was still standing in the doorway.

"Goodnight Jack," Sam said and stood up. He might as well hit the sack. 


	5. The Bullet is Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to the finish line.

"Dude."

Sam started awake, sitting up and grabbing the gun under his pillow before he had his eyes all the way open.

Dean was standing at the foot of the bed, his duffle still slung over his shoulder.

"Uh..." Sam said.

"You know it's super gay for you to be sleeping in my bed when I'm not here right? Super married gay territory."

Sam giggled as he flopped back onto the bed - he couldn't help it. It really _was_ super gay.

"Yeah..and?" he asked still essentially grinning at the ceiling.

"And..." Dean floundered a bit and then dropped his duffel onto the floor, "Ah fuck it." he said and leaped on the bed.

"Listen bitch" he said lying on Sam.

"I'm listening," Sam said still grinning.

"We need to stop with this bitchery and fuckery y'hear. This tiptoeing around each other ends tanight."

Sam laughed.

"What? You gon' man up and fuck me?"

"I am gonna man up and fuck you."

"Okay then," Sam said propping his head on his palm so he could see what Dean would do next. His brother just continued to lie there looking at a loss.

"You go-" 

"Shut up Sam," Dean interrupted.

"Okay," Sam said dramatically zipping his lips with the hand not propping up his head.

Suddenly Dean sat up, "Take it off." he said.

"What?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Everything."

"Oh ah, you meant, take it off take it off..." Sam said scrambling up on his knees to take his vest off. He hesitated with his black wifebeater half off, wondering if he was setting a dangerous precedent obeying Dean with such alacrity. Before he could think too much about it, Dean's hands had joined his own in flipping his shirt off and flinging it across the room. 

"Always did like your chest," Dean murmured and Sam could feel his whole body warm up, soaking in the approval like a sponge.

He wondered if he should tell Dean his chest was nice too.

Not as nice as Sam's but...

He was distracted from these thoughts by Dean's hand on the waistband of his track pants.

"Oh Jesus," he murmured feeling like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for the two of them. Had the men of letters cut off their supply again?

He could feel every individual callused short nailed finger against his skin as Dean burrowed between his pants and his skin in preparation for dealing with the remainder of his clothing. He felt suddenly shy.

"Hey, why am I the only one getting naked?" he protested.

Dean regarded him with a jaundiced eye, "Well Sam, I was thinking about giving you a lap dance after but if you prefer me to just-"

"No. no. A striptease is fine. Continue." Sam said struggling not to sound like T-Bag. His tongue wanted to come out and lick his lips but he wasn't going to let it. He was gonna be dignified and-

Dean's hand brushed against his dick.

Sam almost swallowed his tongue. He was grateful that there was no recording equipment in the room so he could deny that he made that sound forever and ever. Dean ignored both the sound and his resulting blush, too busy burrowing into Sam's pants and getting them off...

Dean cleared his throat, staring at Sam's junk.

"Hmm," he said before leaning away and then getting off the bed.

"Dean...?!" Sam couldn't help the urgency in his voice. Was he defective in his privates too? Could Dean not stand to touch him?

"I just remembered the lube I brought," Dean said stopping at his bag and bending to rummage.

"Oh," Sam said and couldn't quite hide the relief in his voice.

Dean laughed, "What did you think? That your equipment scared me away? It's on the big side but not really that impressive Sammy," he said with a smirk.

"Oh really? Because I saw your eyes widen in shock."

Dean snorted, "Please, I seen you naked before."

"Naked maybe, but not aroused."

"Aroused? Who even says aroused these days?"

"What would you call it?"

Dean walked back to the bed and straddled Sam, making said equipment stand even more to attention, "I call it jonesing for some big brother lovin'. What else?"

Sam could feel the laughter bubbling up in his chest even as his mind was filled with disbelief. At how easy this was. How natural. How they were still Sam and Dean even as his brother was pouring a liberal amount of lube over his hand and telling Sam to lift his legs so he could reach his hole.

"So...no foreplay? What happened to my striptease?"

"Bitch, by the time my striptease is over, you will not want to take any time out for prep. Besides Dad taught us better than that, you always prep _first._ "

Sam groaned, covering his eyes with his huge hand, "Really jerk? Quoting dad while you have your fingers in my asshole, prepping me for sex?"

Dean snorted with laughter, "Yeah, that is pretty wrong. Want me to stop?" he asked just as his finger brushed up against Sam's prostate.

"NO!" Sam said bucking up and convulsing slightly, much to his chagrin. 

"Ah, so thenthitive Sammy boy. gonna have some fun with that," Dean said grinning.

"Dean?" Sam said suddenly solemn. Dean stopped grinning, stopped scissoring and stared at Sam's serious face in trepidation.

"What?" he asked.

"We gotta agree that there will be no pranking in the bedroom. You don't take advantage of any weaknesses we find out about each other in bed. Deal?"

Dean stared at him in shock. Then he burst out laughing as his fingers resumed their work, "Man, I thought you were gonna tell me your visions had come back or Dad was behind me or _something_. God Sam..." he wheezed in amusement.

" _Do we have a deal_?" Sam persisted because he knew his brother well.

Suddenly Dean's fingers were out of his ass and cupping his face. His own face was coming closer until it blotted out the rest of the room as Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's, tongue doing it's best to clean Sam's tonsils even as his hands held him still and spread sticky lube all over his cheek. 

"Deal," Dean said before leaning back and thrusting his fingers back up Sam's ass. Sam gasped, arching backward as his dick jumped and precome drip dropped its way onto Dean's clean sheets.

"Mmmm, we're gonna have to up the number of days we do laundry," Dean said before leaning forward and swallowing the tip of Sam's dick. He licked delicately as if it was the most delicious ice cream to be savored in his mouth before swallowing. Sam's vision had gone blurry at the edges and he thought that he just might come from surprise.

"Deeeaaan," he said voice strained.

"No trying to hold back Sammy. Do what comes naturally," Dean said around the head of Sam's penis. The combination of cool air, alternating with warm breath, Dean's tongue brushing here and there, his teeth gently scraping Sam's sensitive head, the fact that _his brother was giving him head_ , and the sheer anticipation of days of wondering caused his dick to jump and then spurt, spraying spunk liberally onto Dean's face. 

He expected annoyance.

Dean had Sam's spunk all over his face and his shirt was splattered with it as well, and the bed.

Dean leaned back on his haunches, picked up a corner of the sheet and wiped it across his face.

"Well. Always knew you were easy Sammy," he said.

"I'm sorry," Sam said sitting up.

"Don't be sorry. Never be sorry for having feelings, Sammy. It's a gift. Savor it. Enjoy it. Never be sorry."

Sam smiled at Dean being his big brother, even now, "Okay Dean," he said dimples on full display, "You want me to..." he waved at Dean's crotch.

"Nah. I know you wanna lie back right now and not do anything, so do that. It's time for my striptease."

"Oh yeah?" Sam said, kind of excited to see that. He knew he should be a lump of useless flesh and bone right now but he could already feel his dick struggling to stand up again. He wanted _more._ He was greedy.

He didn't want to miss a thing.

He laughed out loud at the cliche, unembarrassed about his happiness. Dean had said to savor it. That's what he would do.

* * *

 

Dean's striptease was surprisingly professional. One minute the room was quiet, the next _Pour it Up_ was playing. Sam laughed out loud as Dean grabbed the chair from it's place at the edge of his desk and straddled it. He began to pull off his already open outer flannel slowly, letting it slip off his wrists and onto the floor before turning around and grasping the chair with his hands. He moved his ass up and down in an absurd parody of twerking that had Sam _dying_. Then leaning on right hand, he turned his head so green eyes met hazel over his left shoulder. His left hand snaked back and pulled his jeans slowly down, his eyes never leaving Sam's. Sam couldn't remember when exactly Dean had unzipped them. slowly, his checkered boxers were revealed and Dean let his jeans fall to the ground. he did another absurd twerk and then jumped and turned so his dick was bobbing up and down in his boxers as he faced Sam. 

Sam was riveted.

He toed off his shoes.

Then his jeans.

All he had on now was his inner white cotton T-shirt and his boxers. He took a step toward the bed and Sam leaned forward, wanting to encourage him in case Dean was thinking of kissing him. Dean put two fingers between the waistband of his boxers and his skin, stretching the elastic so he could peer at his own erect junk. His mouth formed a perfect O of simulated surprise and he looked at Sam with wide eyes.

Sam crowed with delight.

He touched a finger to the tent in his boxers and then shook it as if he'd burned himself, a grimace on his face. Sam almost fell off the bed. Pour it Up gave way to I'm in Love with a Stripper and Sam was finished. He almost fell off the bed he was laughing so hard. When he looked up again, Dean was naked and standing at the foot of the bed, watching him with a fond expression in his eyes. 

Suddenly there was no more laughter.

They regarded each other, seriously, hiding nothing; stripped bare in every way that they could be. Sam lunged for Dean even as Dean leaned in to meet him. Their lips crushed together in hunger and desperation, hands pressing too hard into flesh, leaving visible marks. Sam flipped them over, throwing Dean on the bed and landing on top of him all without separating his lips from Dean's.

When they came up for air, Dean grinned at him, "Who knew you could do graceful?" he murmured before softly pressing his tongue against Sam's mouth, asking to be let in again. Sam leaned in, letting Dean take whatever he wanted from him, fingers gentling on Dean's arms so he could lightly caress.

He pulled back to look Dean in the eye, "You were right about your striptease making me crazy," he said softly, "Fuck me now Dean."

So Dean did.

* * *

 

Dean was first to wake up in the morning. Sam was sprawled all over him, limbs ever which way, ass in the air. Dean couldn't resist taking a peek and then wincing. Last night was definitely one for the ages. And if Sam could manage to walk at all this morning then Dean would concede that he was the toughest son of a bitch on the planet. He eased out of bed, in search of coffee, painkillers and breakfast. Sam would need them once he got up. and then maybe Dean could help him shower. 

It had started slow and careful, Dean feeling his way, not wanting to spook Sam or hurt him. Sam egged him on like he was a prize racehorse on whom Sam had bet his mortgage. So Dean might have gotten a bit careless, a bit less cautious...he might have pounded his brother's ass into the mattress like he was being paid. It was a kind of madness that overtook him. A haze of lust such as which he'd never experienced before. He might have thought he'd been bewitched if there was anyone who could possibly have bewitched him.

He _had_ been bewitched though.

Sam had done it.

And his ass had paid.

But Dean would look after him. That was his job and he was damned good at it.

**Author's Note:**

> I read this fic by foggysundays about Sam losing his memory and coming on to Dean and it just hit me that Sam is awful with women and probably Jess is the one who chased him. From that notion, somehow came this fic.


End file.
